


Dream a Little Dream of Me

by gays_fandom_writer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Mentions of underage drinking, Past Mentions of Abuse, Season 14 canon divergence, Slow Burn, mild internal homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 15:21:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20084413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gays_fandom_writer/pseuds/gays_fandom_writer
Summary: Dean and Cas have been friends for years, but when one of them realizes that they might want more than that, what will come of their friendship?





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Some warnings apply to later chapters, I’ll let you know when they come up.

Chapter One  
12:30 AM, May 13th

Dean awoke to a violent twisting in his stomach, body drenched in a heavy sheen of sweat. He quickly rolled out of bed, stumbling towards the door to his bedroom in the bunker. Running his hand along the wall, Dean made his way towards a bathroom, his mouth clamped shut, the taste of acid corrupting his throat. Just as he entered the war room, cursing the Men of Letters for not building a bathroom nearer to his chambers, he could no longer hold in the vomit crawling up his esophagus. All over the floor, Dean spilled his guts.

"Dean?" Castiel asked tentatively as he entered the room. "Dean, are you okay?" He repeated with a shout, seeing Dean crouched on the floor, kneeling over his own sick. Cas ran over to Dean, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Cas... Cas, I’m okay," Dean stuttered, tripping over his words. "It’s fine. I’m fine." He finished, tone unconvincing.

"Dean, what happened, what’s wrong?" Cas questioned. "Are you sick? If so, I’m strong enough to heal you." He added.

"No, no, no." Dean let out rapidly as Cas reached two fingers towards his forehead. He continued, wiping off his mouth and chin. "I don’t need anyone wasting their time on healing a small cold. I’ll be fine in the morning.” He began to rise, gripping the edge of the map table tightly. 

"Dean, stop. You need to slow down." Cas urged.

"I said I’m fine, Cas. I’m just going to hit the hay."

"You’ve were screaming, Dean. I’m not sure how anyone else is still asleep. You must have been having a nightmare." Dean tried to shrug off Cas’ hand, not wanting to talk about the horrors echoing around in his head. Cas’ grip only tightened, refusing to let his friend recede into the folds of his awaiting nightmares.

"Cas, it was nothing," Dean assured. "I’m going back to bed. Sam found us a case in Oklahoma and we are heading out in the morning. I need at least a couple hours of sleep." Dean finally freed himself and began heading back to his room, one weak step following another. 

"Probably true," Cas says. "But what’s the point if you know you’re not going to be able to. At least not without nightmares." As soon as Castiel finished speaking, the boys heard a creak coming from the hallway. They whipped around, looking for the source of the noise, but found nothing. Nerves settled, Dean continued.

“Cas, buddy, I told you, I’m okay. Just got a nasty cold. I’ll see you in the morning.” With that, Dean gathered his remaining strength and dignity, and trudged back to his room. Castiel sighed, feeling defeated. Though he tried not to take Dean’s rejection personally, it hurt when anyone refused his attempts to help. All he was doing was trying to improve the quality of life of those that he loved. But he supposed it didn’t matter. Dean was tough. He’d move past the nightmares, and they were likely being bolstered by his temporary cold. If Dean needed, him, he’d speak up on his own. Castiel chuckled at the thought. There was no way in hell that Dean would ever willingly offer up his problems to anyone, so Castiel would have to continue checking in on him. But what else was new. It wasn’t like Dean was exactly an open book when it came to his feelings. 

Castiel pushed the thoughts out of his mind. It wasn’t like agonizing over Dean’s choices was going to make him change. This had always been Dean, and likely always would be. Cas looked at the puddle of sick on the floor. Dean had left in such a hurry that he’d forgotten to at least cover it up. With a quick snap of his fingers, Castiel made it disappear, as if nothing had happened. Cas could at least do that for Dean. He walked to the library, in search of an unread book. This is how Cas spent his nights now; growing his already extensive knowledge of the supernatural. Once he had found a title he didn’t recognize, something about the innate desire of werewolves to hunt in packs and how this can be used against them, he made his way to into the kitchen. It’s not like Castiel ate, or drank for that matter. He just found the surroundings of the pots and pans and the hum of the refrigerator quite soothing. He pulled out a stool at the large wooden table, sitting down with the thick, aged book. He opened to the first page and began to read.

2:00 AM, May 13th

Dean tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable. All he could think of was the contents of last night’s nightmare. Recently, the film he would watch in his sleep was one of great tragedy. On repeat, Dean would witness the fatal stabbing on his best and most trusted friend, Castiel. And though he knew in his head that Castiel had returned from the empty, horrific images flooded his dreams every time he went to sleep. Usually, he had solid control over these terrors, able to move on from them with ease once awake. But not tonight. No, not tonight, Dean couldn’t help but think. It seemed to Dean that he’d come down with something vile. But he’d have to fight it off. Sammy had a hunt ready for them and the pair was to head out in a few hours. If he could take some medicine and get a few hours of sleep, he figured that he’d feel fine when the sun rose. The plan seemed like a good one, and Dean had already gotten through with the first part; a little promethazine ought to do the trick in curing his nausea. If only he could fall back asleep. 

After what felt like hours of restless night, Dean got out of bed for the second time that early morning. After grabbing the Impala’s keys from off his bedside table and slipping into the peaceful darkness of the quiet bunker, he maneuvered around tables, chairs, and books thrown off the shelves to get to the kitchen. He needed a beer and some leftover cherry pie, if they had any in the fridge. He thought that he might take some and head out on a drive in Baby, and pick up a few cases of beer if needed. Dean entered the War Room, feeling around on the Map Table for a piece of paper and a pen. When he found what he needed, he scribbled a note that read: 

Went out on a beer run. Don’t worry. - Dean 

He left the note where he hoped someone would see it and continued on to the kitchen, in search of sustenance. Much to his surprise, Dean saw a warm light streaming from the doorway. Upon entry, he knocked on the doorframe, head poking around the corner. There sat Castiel, about a fourth of the way through some dusty looking book. “Hey Cas, what are you reading?” He looked up from the book and to Dean, seemingly unsurprised that he was still awake. 

“It’s a book about the weaknesses of werewolves in packs. It’s actually very interesting, it seems…” He was cut off by Dean.

“That when in packs, werewolves are much less careful. They screw crap up pretty bad and don’t care enough to cover their tracks. It makes them pretty easy to catch and kill.” Dean made his way towards the refrigerator, massaging his head as he went.

“Yes. So you’ve already read this book.” Castiel observed. He watched Dean grimace, and realized he was speaking to loudly. “I’m sorry. I was too loud,” he apologized quickly.

“Nah, it’s alright Cas. I feel better than I did earlier. Took some medicine. And no, I haven’t read that book. I learned from experience.” Dean grabbed a beer, and began to look for any remnants of the cherry pie they had two nights ago. He found nothing. “Dammit,” he cursed.

“What?” Cas asked, growing concerned.

“Sorry man. Just meant that we’re out of pie.”

“Oh.” Cas continued to look at Dean expectantly. 

“Dude, that’s creepy. Quit staring.” Cas didn’t. “What d’you want?” Dean added. Castiel’s eyes softened. 

“Tell me the truth Dean. How are you?” Dean sighed, but Castiel didn’t let up. He continued to wait for the answer patiently.

“Cas, I told you. I’m fine.” Dean looked away, spinning Baby’s keys around his finger and clenching his jaw. 

“No, you’re not.” Cas stated. It was true. Dean wasn’t fine. But he also didn’t want to worry his family. So much had changed recently. Jack had lost his powers, died, and come back to life. Michael had possessed Dean, and though he was now gone, the thoughts of what he did with Dean’s body were gut-wrenching. They also had all of the Apocalypse world hunters to deal with, and that sure as hell wasn’t easy. They were doing their best, but there was just to much going on. No one had time to deal with Dean’s internal crisis. 

“I am, I swear.” Dean responded as confidently as he could. Cas was less than convinced. He saw straight through Dean’s bullshit.

“Then why won’t you let me heal you?” Cas challenged, sliding his book away, eyebrow raised. Dean turned to him, unsure of what to tell his angelic friend. It wasn’t like he could just allow Cas to heal him. Then he would see how deep the damage runs. It was one thing to allow Cas to take away his fever, but it was a whole other to let him in to Dean’s mind. In there, Castiel wouldn’t like what he saw. It was filled with fear, uncertainty, and hatred; mostly of himself. He couldn’t let Cas see that. Dean was supposed to be the rock and no one needed him breaking down or weakening. But he still and no response for the waiting angel. He opened his mouth a few times to begin crafting a believable lie, but he couldn’t think of anything. Maybe the medicine was messing with his head. “I thought so.” Cas said, reaching out for his book to resume reading, hoping this action would prompt Dean to stop him and start talking.

“I’ll work through it on my own. I always do,” Dean said with an attempt at a sincere smile. Castiel pulled back from the book, facing Dean with a look of sympathy. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m serious. I’ll be okay. But I can’t sleep. The stuff I took must be keeping me up. I was going to go on a drive, but I don’t feel up to it right now. Want to get some fresh air with me?” Castiel pushed out his chair and turned to the fridge, opening it and pulling out a cheap beer. He did this to hide the smile tugging on his lips. He was glad Dean was at least agreeing to talk, even if it wasn’t about what was plaguing him.

“Sure. Do you want to put away the car keys? I can take our beers out there.”

“No, I think I’ll take her with us. My body temperature has been all over the place, so I might want to have something to sit in. Plus, sitting on her hood and looking at the stars was a thing me and Sammy used to do. It’s been a while,” Dean reminisced. 

“I can leave you to it, if it’s just for you and Sam.” Castiel began to leave, suddenly feeling as though he was intruding.

“No, Cas, buddy, I invited you. That means you’re welcome. Your people skills really aren’t so great, huh.” Dean laughed to himself as he started the walk to the garage, with Castiel following behind. 

2:45 AM, May 13th

Neither said a word as Dean drove Baby out to a small lake a few miles from the bunker. The mixtape Dean had gifted Castiel was playing; and Travelling Riverside Blues by Led Zeppelin was blaring, filling the car with music. Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat, medicine having finally kicked all the way in, and Cas just listened appreciatively. He didn’t have much rhythm, but still enjoyed the pleasant sounds coming out of the car’s old speakers. They sat in comfortable silence until they pulled up to a small lake surrounded by trees. Dean parked the car, but left it on so the music would continue. “I like it. A little background noise.” Dean explained. He opened the door, stepping out of the car onto the damp grass. Castiel did the same, and the boys slammed Baby’s doors shut, making sure to leave the windows rolled down. Dean reached back into the car, taking his beer out of the cupholder and bringing it to his lips. He brought Cas’s unopen one out as well, offering it to him. Cas took it from Dean, popping off the cap and turning it in his fingers. 

“Thank you, Dean.” Cas said as he began to nurse the beer. Castiel looked to the sky, gazing at the twinkling lights that light up their world and reflect off the still lake. Dean looked at him quizzically as he took another small sip of the cheap drink.

“Cas, why do you drink? I thought you said human food tastes like ‘individual atoms’ or something.” Castiel looked at him, surprised.

“It’s become something of a habit. At first I did it because it seemed to make people more comfortable. Seeing me do things that they did. I guess it makes me seem more human,” Cas responded, putting the beer down on the hood of the Impala. “If you think it’s weird, I can stop.”

“It’s fine, I was just curious.” Dean said, turning away to gaze at the lake, now unsettled by a small breeze. He let out a long sigh, followed by a quiet laugh. Castiel looked at him with his eyebrow raised and a friendly smile tugging at his lips.

“What is it?” Cas asked, interest piqued.

“Just remembering something Sammy and I did years ago.” Cas took a seat on the hood of the Impala, waiting for Dean to continue. “I was probably, what, sixteen? Sammy was twelve. We were with Dad, who’d gone out on a solo hunt, I think it was a pair of Vetala, I don’t remember where. Anyways, Dad had come back after, and I could tell that it was a lot harder than he’d thought it was going to be. So he went to the shitty fridge and grabbed a bottle of whiskey, and he just downed it. As much as he could. As you can imagine, he was drunk off his ass, so I wanted to get Sam out of the motel. He didn’t need to see Dad like that, you know? He was just a kid.” Cas grimaced. Thinking about Sam and Dean’s past hurt. He couldn’t imagine what his best friend went through in his formative years. It wasn’t fair. He zoned back in quickly, not wanting Dean to notice his concern. Cas new his friend didn’t want anyone’s pity. Dean continued with the story. “So I took the keys to the car and just drove. Took Sammy as far away as I could in one night. We’d probably been driving for two or three hours when we pulled up to this little dirt road entering a forest. I turned onto it because why the hell not? It wasn’t like we weren’t armed. We drove down that path for fifteen minutes, just rocking out to Def Leppard. And all of a sudden, the path opened up to this clearing. There was a lake, and the night was clear. We looked out and saw the moonlight reflecting off the lake. It was a nice moment, and we didn’t get those often, so I was just kind of enjoying it, you know?” Cas watched as a smile pulled at Dean’s lips. “There was nothing else I wanted in that moment but my little brother and some peace. And I figured that that was what Sammy wanted too, but…” Dean stopped, a small snicker turning into a full laugh, casing him to double over and hold his stomach, trying to subdue his fit. “Sorry… sorry.” He tried to finish. “Just a funny story, that’s all.” He continued to laugh. “Just….give me a….second.” He wheezed out. Cas began to laugh with him, the amusement spreading. His eyes crinkled at the corners, as he let out a hearty chuckle. They stayed like this for a while, erupting into even more laughter each time they thought they were done. Finally, they composed themselves and Dean continued. “So Sammy was just kind of sitting there in silence, and I started to worry about him, so I asked: Sammy, are you okay? And he just kind of stood there nervously. He finally opens his mouth, and asks me if he can have a beer! Kid was twelve! And I thought he was just enjoying the night.” Dean recounted. “I guess it isn’t as funny when it’s retold. A had to be there kind of thing.” Castiel ignored Dean’s comment, a question nagging him. 

“What did you say?” Dean looked at Cas, a big grin plastered across his freckled face. 

“What d’you think?” He responded, now smirking. Cas squinted, tilting his head slightly to the side, his trademark expression on full display.

“Well, I assume…” Castiel began to answer Dean’s question when he was interrupted.

“Cas, you’re not supposed to answer, it was a rhetorical question.” Dean lips were turned into a friendly smile, but Castiel was still confused. 

“But how am I…” 

“Yes, buddy. I gave it to him. Jesus, man.” 

“Oh.” Castiel finished lamely, nothing else left to say. 

Some time passed, and the boys sat on the hood of the car, nursing their beers. Neither said much, the only other sounds to be heard were the chirping of crickets and the plunk of small rocks on water; created by the pebbles Dean was throwing into the lake. They watched as the stones sent ripples across the water, distorting the reflection of the moon and stars. After a while Dean broke the silence. “What was it like? Y’know, before me and Sam or the modern world. I’ve always wondered.” Cas heard the question but wasn’t really sure what to say. It felt as though his real life began when he met the Winchesters. Before them, he was just a goon at Heaven’s disposal. Now he had free will, and the right to fight for those he loved. Stairway to Heaven hummed quietly, reverberating through the Impala. He listened, recalling what life was like for him when he was up there. It all seemed like a blur. The same thing, day in and day out, carrying out the orders of a fool mimicking god, who hadn’t been there in a long time. 

“It was different.” Cas said plainly. Dean was about to ask him how when he carried on. “Life was far more simple. No moral dilemmas. We were told what to do and we did it. It was god’s will, so who were we to question? But I think I always did, even before you and Sam. There was this mission I was given, several millennia ago. This is when angels were often sent to earth, carrying out little tasks to prove that we were there, and that we should be respected.” 

“Yeah, like that little stunt you pulled on me after the first apocalypse. The ‘You should show me a little respect’ thing. Dude, I was scared shitless. I thought you were gonna kill me or punish me or something. Guess I didn’t know you as well back then.” Dean remembered, referencing old times. 

“It was something like that. But what I said to you was out of pure human emotion. I wasn’t able to control myself as well back then. What I was to do on this mission was to be of pure obligation. I was told to kill a man who had stolen bread from a rich store owner. It was to prove that God was not to be disobeyed, but I couldn’t do it. I came to his house, If you could call it that. It was rundown, walls beginning to collapse. I announced myself, telling him I was an angel of the lord.” Dean interjected, holding up his hand. 

“Yeah, you gotta stop doing that man. No one believes you, and if they do, it blows our cover.” 

“Yes, but there are situations in which it is imperative that people know the truth.” Cas argued.

“Those situations are a lot less common than you think. But whatever, it isn’t important right now. Keep going.” Cas rolled his eyes dramatically, but obliged Dean’s request.

“The man asked me, ‘Why are you here?’ He believed me.” Castiel cast a sideways look at his friend, who then took his turn rolling his eyes. The seraph grinned in victory, then moved on. “I asked him if he had a loaf of bread. I wanted to see if he would lie. He told me no, and I walked to him, planning to kill the man. But then he told me that he had given it all to his starving wife and son. He himself didn’t even have anything. But instead of asking me for something, he apologized profusely and confessed to the sin. Anyone could see he was a devout man. I couldn’t justify ending his life. So I didn’t. Instead, I blessed him, making it so on the anniversary of that date, for his entire life, his pantry would be filled with bread so he and his family would never go hungry again.” Castiel finished, smiling at the story. “I suppose I’ve never been a perfect soldier, you and Sam just brought out more of what was already there.” 

They went on like this, exchanging stories in friendly camaraderie for hours. It had been too long for them. Too long since they had been able to just relax and talk. It’s not like stories never came up, just not if they had nothing to do with a case. So it was nice, to be able to sit there, reminiscing about old times. It was important they do this every now and then. The longer you go without sharing your stories, the quicker they fade from you. So share they did. Until they couldn’t anymore. Once again, they were howling at a stupid story one of them had told, but this time it was different. When Cas came up for air, Dean did not. Instead, his pushed himself off Baby, hand clamped over his mouth. He tripped, getting himself a few feet away for anything of value, then hurled. “Shit.” Dean said hoarsely. “Sorry Cas, came out of nowhere.”

“It’s alright, Dean.” Cas walked to the car, turning off the music and pulling an old t-shirt from the Impala. He walked over to Dean, offering him the shirt to clean up with. He accepted it, wiping down his face; then removing his heather gray hoodie. He stood outside in a pair of sweats and a black tee, an immediate chill washing over his body. “Let’s go. Hand me the keys.” Dean pulled them out of his pocket, dangling them in front of Cas. 

“I swear to god, if you do so much as scratch her, I’ll kill you.” Dean mumbled. 

“I know.” Cas said, starting to guide the man to the car. Dean shrugged him off, opening the door on his own.

“I got it man.” Dean winced, sliding into the vehicle. 

“Okay.” Cas responded, a picture of concern painted on his face. He moved to the other side of the car, getting in and starting it up. 

“Medicine….. It must’ve worn off…” Dean slurred, already half asleep. 

“I’ll get you some when we are back in the bunker.” Cas promised him. Dean stayed quiet, and Castiel turned to look at him. He had dozed off, in a feverish rest, his face slack. Cas smiled. Yes, Dean was sick, but at this moment he seemed at peace. These days, he didn’t see much of that. Cas returned his eyes to the road. He had promised Dean he’d take care of the car, and he was going to do just that. He started the music again, turning the sound on as low as it would go. Led Zeppelin's Ramble On played softly, notes dancing through the Impala; giving the air a feel that one day, this memory would be referred to as something from the ‘good old days’. The thought pleased him. The idea that they would all live long enough to call anything the good old days pleased him. He risked turning the music up, feeling brave. As the song filled the car, Cas hummed along, unable to conceal his smile.


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two  
6:30 AM, May 14th

Sam’s alarm clock beeped loudly, startling him awake. He sat up, running a hand through his long brown hair, pushing it out of his eyes. Sam reached over, leaning across the bed and hit the alarm clock, silencing it. He swung his legs out of the bed and stood up. Walking over to his neatly organized stack of clothes, he pulled out a green flannel, grey undershirt, and pair of faded blue jeans. He slipped it all on quickly, getting ready for the hunt to come. It was in Manchester, Oklahoma, and by the evidence and information they had found online, he assumed it was a lone werewolf. The hunt should be easy enough, and that in itself was a win. Everything they had dealt with recently had been very trying, and they needed a simple, honest to god, victory. Sam figured that they’d get it here. 

After lacing up his worn boots, he walked down the hallway to Dean’s room, checking to see if he was there. He slowly opened the door, doing his best not to wake Dean. Sam knew of his early morning temperament. To his surprise, Dean was not in the room, but his dirty clothes from the night before were littered all over the ground, in true Dean fashion. Sam rolled his eyes at the general filth spread across the room; it looked as it could belong to a teenager. Used pizza boxes, napkins, scattered paper and dirty laundry covered the room. When Sam thought about it, it was strange. Dean usually kept his room at least presentable. After all, it was the first home he had had in years. He wanted to take care of it. Sam dismissed the thought, not thinking much of it. He then left the room, going to search for Dean in the rest of the bunker. 

He walked through the rest of the bunker, quietly repeating Dean’s name. Some of the Apocalypse World hunters had returned from completed cases the previous night, and he didn’t want to wake them. When he entered the war room, he found Maggie, a young hunter sitting at the table, typing away at a computer. “What are you doing up?” Sam asked her, concern in his eyes.

“Morning!” She half whispered, smiling tiredy. “Just looking for a new case. You and Dean heading out?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, walking over to her. “You know you don’t always have to be on a case. You have to take breaks.” Maggie chewed on her bottom lip, avoiding Sam’s eyes. 

“I know, it’s just that so many died in my world. There were some many innocent people we couldn’t save…” She trailed off, going back to typing on the computer.

“You feel like you’re making up for everyone you can’t save.” Sam finished, still watching her. It hurt to see Maggie like this. She was almost like a daughter to Sam. All the new hunters had become a part of his family, and he was completely dedicated to protecting them; not only physically, but mentally. She nodded, signaling that he was right. Sam closed the computer gently, forcing her to look at him. “Go to sleep. Someone else can cover it. You won’t be able to help if you can’t even function.” At that comment, she yawned. 

“Okay.” She promised, standing up from the table. Sam smiled warmly, glad he could help. “Dean was headed to the bathroom by the way, in case you were looking for him.”

“Thanks.” Sam said as Maggie left the room. He continued through the war room and onto the bathroom, where the door had been left ajar. When Sam entered, he saw Dean, kneeling, head practically in the toilet. “Dean?” He asked, stepping towards him slowly, fully taking in the sight. Dean was wearing a red flannel, halfway on, the other half hanging off his left shoulder.Underneath it he wore a black tee. He had one boot laced halfway up, the other tied tightly. His hair was a mess. All in all he looked rough. After a brief pause, Dean responded.

“Hey, Sammy!” He laughed uncomfortably. “I’ll be ready in a second. Just a little nauseous.” Sam immediately refused.

“There is no way you are coming with me like that,” He stated, gesturing to Dean’s hunched figure and leaving no room for argument. “Either have Cas heal you, or take the day off.” Dean sat up quickly, instantly regretting it. He clutched his stomach in discomfort, but toughed it out. 

“Sam, I’ll be fine.” He lied. “I just need to recover for a sec.” Dean gagged, then turned rapidly, resuming his previous spot over the toilet, fighting the urge to throw up. There was no way Sam would let him go if he did that. The man would tie him to his bed if he had to. 

“Dean, no offense, but you are absolutely useless right now. If I took you, not only would I be risking you ass, but also mine, and all the victim’s. We can’t do that. Dean was about to respond when his body forced him to let loose, spewing into the water. Once he was done, he flushed it, then wiped his mouth off with a tissue. “Hold on, lemme get you some water.” Sam left the room, returning a minute later with a glass of liquid and a dose of promethazine. After downing them both, Dean stood, removing the flannel from his sickly, sensitive skin. He was cold, but it was better than the constant scratching he felt when wearing the extra layer. “I’ll call Cas to heal you.” Sam promised, but Dean stopped him. 

“No use in wasting his time.” Dean rasped. Sam looked at him in surprise. The regular Dean would never just take something like this lying down, especially when there was a hunt. But he supposed it wasn’t the regular Dean. He was in fact sick. And it was true that he was a bit soft when feverish. Still, it worried Sam. 

“Are you sure, Dean? I’m sure it’d be no problem.”

“Yes.” Dean answered abruptly, eyes squeezed shut. “I’ll just take the day off.”

“Okay,” Sam said, voice full of worry. “Are you sure you’re…” Dean cut him off.

“I’m fine Sammy.” He promised, mouth curled into a sick man’s attempt at a smile. but Sam didn’t buy it. He decided to let it be, knowing that pressuring Dean for a truthful answer would only make things worse. 

“You want some help back to you room?” Sam asked him, but Dean waved it off.

“I got it man. Have fun on the hunt. Just don’t go alone though.” Sam smiled weakly. Dean was sick and still, he was more worried about Sam’s well being.

“I’ll drag Mom along. Could be fun.” Sam promised his older brother.

“I’m sure she’d like that.” Dean continued down the hallway, back to his bedroom, where sleep awaited him. Sam walked off, in search of Mary Winchester. 

When Dean finally made it to his room, he immediately pulled off his jeans, leaving him in his navy blue plaid underwear and soft black tee. He flopped down onto his memory foam mattress, then crawled under the sheets and comforter, shivering. Within minutes, he was fast asleep, in a tangle of blankets, snoring loudly. 

9:oo AM, May 14th

They had been quiet for a while, allowing the hum of wheels against a worn road to take the place of their voices. It wasn’t that they had too little to say, it was that they had too much. Where are you to begin when speaking to your recently revived mother? She had missed everything. Just striking up a conversation with the woman, about the weather or the case or some other trivial thing, felt wrong. That’s what they had been doing ever since she’d come back. And Sam was able excuse it. They had been busy looking for Dean. Then with integrating the Apocalypse World hunters into regular life, or at least a regular life as a newly minted hunter. Then Mary left, and Sam had to Deal with Jack’s vessel issues. The two hadn’t really had the time to catch up. But now they did, and neither could seem to find the words. So they waited, hoping the other would say something. Eventually, Mary did.

“I have a question, and I need you to be honest with me.” Sam let out a breath of relief, glad that his mother had broken the unbearable silence. “What is going on with Dean and Castiel?” Sam took his eyes off the road, looking at his mother puzzled. It’s not the kind of question he expected, but at least it was something. 

“What do you mean?” He asked her. Sam had his suspicions, but that’s all they were, at least until Dean and Cas confirmed them. Every now and then, an intense glance that could only be referred to as eye-sex, or a lingering touch caused him to wonder. In fact, it had gotten to the point that he was quite convinced of the possibility of a relationship between the two, if they would only remove their head’s from their asses. Sam pushed the thought aside, knowing that nothing would ever come of the feelings that they may or may not have for each other. They would cling desperately to the title of friendship until the day that they died, no matter how in love they were. When he really thought about it, he wasn’t even sure Dean and Cas knew how they felt. He ended the train of thought there. It didn’t matter, because this was all purely speculation, though he assumed it was accurate. He returned his wandering mind to his mom, who was describing an interaction she had witnessed between Castiel and Dean.

“... So he just followed him to the garage, and they drove off together. Didn’t come back for a few hours.” Mary finished. “Did you hear any of that?” She asked her son, smiling. Sam scrunched up his face, giving something of an apologetic smile. 

“Quick recap?” He requested, an apologetic smile tugging at his lips. Mary rolled her eyes dramatically. 

“I was just saying that last night, Dean was having a nightmare, and then through up. I knew he was sick, he used to do that as a kid, so I went to go check on him. Castiel beat me to it, immediately taking Dean’s side and trying to comfort him in that confused angel way.” She sighed, taking a break. She had been speaking rather quickly. “So I left, not wanting to interrupt, you know?” Sam nodded and she continued. “Later, I heard some movement in the garage, so I went to check it out. They were just leaving. I’m not sure when they got back.” Mary stopped, leaving time for Sam to think about his answer. When he didn’t respond, she added a question. “So I guess I was just wondering if they were together or…you know.” She implied gently. That was something Sam could answer fairly well.

“No, they aren’t together.” He opened his mouth, as if to say something more, but stopped himself. He had no right spreading anything about Dean and Cas, even if it was just his own opinion. But Mary was having none of it.

“What?” She urged, now intrigued by Sam’s hesitation. He tried to start again, choosing his words as carefully as possible.

“They aren’t together. But…” He went silent again. But it felt strange, talking about Dean and Cas in that way. It seemed almost wrong. He decided against mentioning any thought rattling around in his brain. “Nevermind.” Mary gave him her best mom look, threatening him without words. Sam could feel his armour chipping. “It really is nothing!” He exclaimed, hoping she couldn’t see straight through his lie. Unfortunately, her maternal instincts led her to the truth. 

“Sam Winchester, you tell me what you were going to say right this instant or so help me god…” 

“Alright, fine!” Sam interrupted, finally giving in. It wasn’t like Mary didn’t know about them. Despite this, he was still a bit reluctant and decided to proceed with caution. Sam knew it was imperative to choose his words carefully, so not to completely expose Dean and Cas for something they might not yet be aware of. 

“There are things...things that they do, just little stuff you know. That makes it seem like there could be something…going on.” He said. “But that’s just me assuming!” He added rapidly. Mary nodded, understanding.

“I don’t think they know it yet.” Sam looked at her, small smile spreading across his face. Some of his initial nerves subsided. He supposed it was okay to talk about, but only with Mary. It was her son after all. Besides, he never got to talk about stuff like this. But if Mary had come to the same conclusions as him on her own, he figured there was nothing wrong with a little conversation. At that decision, he let go of any doubts he had about sharing all the details of the so-called Destiel. 

“I don’t think so either. But I feel like it might be coming.” Sam said, agreeing with his mother. “So what ‘proof’ have you found?” With that invitation, Mary began, explaining all that she had seen the pair do together since returning. She included their ‘dates’ to small bars and coffee shops, domestic relationship-like activities, and constant eyesex. Sam told her of Dean breaking through to Cas in his mind controlled state, his search for Cas in Purgatory, and how devastated he was every time that Castiel had died. Eventually, the conversation petered out, but left them both feeling satisfied. Neither had been able to speak about this, so it was nice to be able to take the load that is Destiel off their shoulders. Then, Mary had an idea. She didn’t get to be a part of the boy’s lives when they were having teenage crushes, and she wanted to make up for that now. 

“We should get them together. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of all the sexual tension.” Sam immediately laughed, knowing the awkward feeling of standing in a room with them during ‘tense times’ all too well. 

With that, they decide to try to make Dean and Cas work. Both Sam and Mary could admit that getting the two to confess any feelings for each other would be more than difficult. Whatever they came up with would have to be beyond perfect. The hunters had little time left until their arrival in Manchester, so they had to plan quickly. Sam and Mary spent the rest of the drive bouncing ideas off of each other, trying to come up with a solid strategy. They both agreed it would have to be multi-step scheme, Cas and Dean would have to ease into it if they were to enter any kind of a romantic relationship. They also agreed that whatever plan the selected would have to be flexible, allowing for it to be followed one step at a time, with plenty of room for change. The lives of the group were very unstable and their scheme would have to account for that. After nearly an hour of debate, they decided on a path. They would initiate the plan later, during Winchester movie night with a simple forced seating arrangement. 

3:00 PM, May 14th

Jack trudged into his room, closing the door behind him. He fell down dramatically on his bed, looking up at the ceiling. Jack was covered in sweat from his boxing session with Bobby, and he was completely exhausted. Life was hard without his grace. He had been having to learn how live and function as entirely human until his grace recharged, which could be a while; no one was really sure. After his untimely demise caused by Lucifer, who stole his grace, throwing off his body’s balance, he was revived by his family. However, his return came at two large costs. The first, was Castiel’s commitment to the empty. The entity believed it had claim to Jack over Heaven, and wanted to take him away before Castiel could save him. So Cas made a deal. The second his angeleic father became truly happy, the empty would sweep in and steal him away. The second was the fact that bringing Jack back could only happen if the burned off a piece of the boy’s human soul. Both of these things disturbed Jack greatly, and thought of them often.

As he continued to ponder these things, he heard his bedroom door click open. Jack sat up quickly, looking to the entrance of his room. There stood Castiel, a look of pity plastered across his usually straight face. 

“Jack. How are you doing?” He asked genuinely. Castiel knew exactly what it was like to have something, something that felt as though it made him who he was, ripped away in a matter of seconds. He presumed that Jack was feeling useless and confused, thrust into a life he didn’t understand how to live. Castiel was determined to help, at least until Jack’s powers returned. 

“I’m fine!” Jack responded with exaggerated enthusiasm, obviously lying. He must of learned his coping methods from the Winchesters, much like Cas. Castiel sighed, walking across the room, taking a seat on the edge of Jack’s bed. After a second, he turned to the young man. 

“No, you’re not.” Cas smiled weakly, sadness seeping through. His eyes pleaded for Jack to talk to him, to give him something that he could help with. Jack’s fake smile immediately turned into a frown. 

“I just feel so useless. I don’t have my powers. How am I supposed to help anyone without them?” Jack looked away, but Cas stayed silent, waiting for more. “I don’t know what to do.” Jack finished depressingly. 

“It’s simple.” Cas began, remembering his time as a human. “You adapt. You do your best to master the skills you need to help those around you, and continue doing so until you return to grace.” Jack shook his head then wiped his hands on his jeans.   
“I’m trying. Bobby is teaching me to box, but I suck. Mary is trying to help me use human weapons, but I can’t even do that. Research should be easy, but I can never find anything new that helps! I have nothing to offer.” Jack complained. He finally looked at Cas again, who reached out, tapping Jack’s shoulder. 

“That’s not true. You have you. I know it may not seem like much, but everyone has their special skills. Just because you haven’t found yours yet doesn’t mean it's not there. Also, Jack, it’s not like your powers wont return. You just have to learn to survive without them for a little while.” Castiel stopped when he heard floorboards creaking, signaling the approach of another person. The two boys watched the doorway, waiting for someone to appear. They didn’t necessarily want someone to intrude on their private conversation. Cas was surprised to see Dean, who earlier that day had been white as a sheet, standing there, some color returned to his freckled face. 

“Yeah buddy,” Dean rasped, already low voice audibly deeper. “You’re family. We don’t care about how ‘useful’ you are to us. No one really even knows what we actually need right now.” Dean laughed at their situation. “We just need you to stay safe.” Jack grinned at his comment. What Dean and Castiel had told him was exactly what he needed to hear. Jack got up, starting towards the open doorway. 

“Where are you going?” Dean and Cas asked in unison. Jack turned around, childlike smile painted across his face. 

“To the library. I’m going to do some research.” With that, he turned around and left, ready to hit the books. 

Dean and Cas sighed, looking at each other. “Kid’s a handful.” Dean laughed, and Castiel smiled gently in return. 

“You should get back to bed if you plan on getting better anytime soon. Or I could just heal you.” Dean responded rapidly, clearly nervous.

“Nah man. I’m okay. I’ll be better by tomorrow. Just gonna go look at some potential cases.” Dean then left quickly, heading back towards his room. It confused Cas, Dean’s behavior. He knew that Dean wasn’t comfortable with Castiel looking into his thoughts or using his powers in any way that might connect their heads, but he usually would let go of his need for complete privacy if a case was on the line. It was very strange that Dean was allowing himself to go through this just so Cas wouldn’t heal him. Yes, it was true that when healing Dean of something like a fever, something that afflicts his head, there was a possibility that he could accidentally slip into Dean’s thoughts, but it made no sense that he wouldn’t take this risk. It was only a small one. Castiel pushed the thoughts out of his head for the second time that day. No use worrying about what was going on in Dean’s mind. He wasn’t going to tell Cas anything. But that didn’t mean he was going to give up. Castiel got up off the bed and headed off to the War Room, in search of something to do. 

10:15 PM, May 14th

The heavy bunker door creaked as it swung open to reveal Mary and Sam, back from their hunt. They both were lugging two large backpacks, filled with supplies and weapons. The pait made their way down the stairs, boots clunking loudly against the metal steps. Sam and Mary left their bags on the map table and went to their respective rooms to take a shower. The hunt had been easy. The easiest they’d had in a while. It was a single vamp, continuing to return to a bar to find victims. They found and dispatched it within seven hours. 

Now that they had come back to the peace and quiet of their home, the two had a different, more difficult plan to execute. They needed to spark something between Dean and Castiel. The idea was simple. They would arrange the seating so that the pair would be forced to share a tight space. Sam had given many scientific reasons for this, things about the chemicals in the brain and such, but Mary didn’t care, so long as it would work. Since so many of the Apocalypse World hunters had returned to the bunker for movie night, most of the spots in the sitting room would be filled. Hopefully, the close quarters would at least put the idea of a relationship in one of their heads through the illusion of voluntary affection.

About thirty minutes later, both were out of the shower and helping to set up the projector and snacks. They made small talk, filling the uncomfortable silence with their voices and light laughter. When they were finally done; Sam and Mary Winchester called the rest of the people in the bunker into the room to vote on the movie. They trickled in, starting with Jack and then Maggie. Soon after, Bobby and the rest of the Apocalypse world hunters followed. They all took their seats, filling all the chairs and couches with bodies. Mary took the last armchair and Sam sat at the edge of a smaller sofa, leaving enough space for Cas and Dean to squeeze together on the other side. A minute later, the pair walked in, beers in hand.

Dean was clearly still a bit sick. He looked a mess, hair ruffled, sticking up all over the place and face slightly paled. He had shed his usual flannel, replacing it with a black tee shirt and dark navy zip up hoodie. He also had on a pair of heather grey sweatpants. This didn’t surprise Sam, it matched Dean’s usual attire when sick. What did surprise him however, was what Castiel was wearing. Instead of his usual suit and trench coat, he had on a faded grey AC/DC shirt with red lettering, a pair of green and black plaid pajama pants and two grey socks that reached halfway up his calves. Upon further inspection, Sam and Mary noticed that Cas’s hair was damp, and clean. He had showered. After looking the Seraph over once more, Sam realized the clothes he was wearing were Dean’s. Immediately, Sam and Mary looked at each other, smiles creeping across their faces slowly. 

“Hey guys!” Mary said, overly cheerful. Dean looked at her, raising his eyebrows.

“Hey mom…” He responded, mildly confused by her tone. Deciding to ignore it, he turned his head to look at Sam, who was grinning smugly, looking between him and his angel-friend. 

“Nice outfit Cas.” Sam commented. “Where’d you get it?” 

“It’s Dean’s.” He explained plainly, like it meant nothing. 

“The guy doesn’t smell great. He hunts, drives, and lives in that thing. I’m not even sure what the hell it is, but it reeks. Was making me feel sick.” Dean shrugged. With the mini interrogation over, Cas walked over to the other side of the room, sitting on the opposite side of the couch Sam was on. Dean looked at it hesitantly, but moved into his seat when Sam gestured to it. Castiel was turned inward, leaning against the armrest and feet resting on the coffee table in front of him. Dean sat beside him, facing forward, feet propped up on the same coffee table, making sure not to touch. Sam rolled his eyes, stretching out his legs a bit to cover more of the couch, forcing the two closer together, legs now overlapping. 

“Personal space, Sammy!” Dean scolded, tilting his head towards his younger brother. After a second of intense bitchfacing, he turned forward to watch the movie. They chose Route 666, a slasher film. 

Throughout the course of the movie, Dean’s condition began to once again worsen. He was able to keep focus through Route 666, but his body was wracked with shivers and chills. Dean was absolutely freezing. Castiel was about to push himself from up off the couch, planning to fetch Dean a blanket. He had started to shift Dean, who had slumped into his side, when Sam stopped him, retrieving one so that Cas wouldn’t have to.

Sam hadn't been paying much attention to the two beside him, distracted by the movie, but when he looked at them, he was happy to see the plan working. Now, Dean was laying against Cas’s side, resting his head on the angel’s shoulder. His legs were lying of the couch beside him, curled closely to his weakened body. Castiel was supporting him, arm wrapped around Dean’s shoulders, head resting on the human’s. 

When Sam settled the blanket over Dean, Cas lifted his head, bringing up his left hand to mess with his nearly dry hair. After doing so, he put his head back down onto Dean’s. The man burrowed into the angel more, searching for warmth. Castiel pulled him tighter. He was the only one who could hold Dean like this, anyone else would become sick. He took comfort in the fact that he could help in some way that no one else could. A few minutes later, Sam got up from the sofa, not wanting to catch whatever his older brother had. He moved on to another recently open seat, hoping Dean and Cas wouldn’t move. They didn’t. For the rest of the film, the pair stayed like this. Other hunters, all sitting on equally crowded seats and couches would get up from time to time, retrieving snacks or using the bathroom. Outside of this, there was little movement. It felt nice. Cozy. Cas would ask Dean a question every now and then, and Dean would mumble a short answer, but other than that, there were no vocal interruptions from anyone. The Apocalypse World hunters began to take notice of Dean and Cas when the angel stated to run his fingers through Dean’s hair, relaxing them both. They would whisper amongst themselves about what had come to be known as DeanCas or Destiel, but the two men in question didn’t seem to notice. They just continued their domestic activities. 

Dean made it through Route 666 okay, staying completely awake and alert. But when Hell House started, he slipped into a state of confusion, fading in and out of concentration, picking up very little. His body slowly went lax, and he fell into Castiel, who had turned and laid back even further, trying to make Dean more comfortable. They took on the position of Dean sleeping on Castiel’s chest, legs hanging off the edge of the sofa. Cas had brought his arms around Dean, letting them droop loosely over the sleeping man. The Seraph had also curled his legs up and turned onto his side a bit, allowing his knees to rest in Dean’s lap. 

If Dean weren’t sick, they would have never allowed themselves into this kind of situation. But they excused the behavior, deciding that helping Dean was more important than looking tough. So their they sat, wrapped together, Dean asleep and Castiel still running his hands through the older Winchester’s already messy hair. If they were both honest, they enjoyed it. It was rare that you would get any kind of comfort, even from your friends and family, in their line of work. It was nice to feel safe in a friend’s arms, but it would have to be just the once. No one needed them going soft. But for that night, they would stay there, together, even after everyone else had gone up to bed. 

Dean would have wanted Cas to “Go get comfortable or something” and leave him alone on the couch in his own misery. But Castiel wouldn’t. Dean looked far to at peace, something he could use far more of. So Cas stayed, allowing Dean to sleep. He knew in the back of his head that the nightmares would be coming, but for Dean’s sake, Cas hoped the man’s inner demons would leave him alone for the night. But if they didn’t Castiel would have to do something. He could no longer stand by and watch someone he loved struggle. For those he loved, Cas would go to hell and back, so he’d be damned if he would cure a little sickness and stop a few nightmares. After all, he was an angel of the lord. And though he no longer used his power to suppose Heaven, he could use it to support Dean. So he vowed that, if that night, Dean needed healing, he would give it to him. And Castiel was not going to take no for an answer. 

3:00 AM, May 15th

Cas had long since zoned out, but he broke out of this state when he felt Dean begin to twitch and mumble underneath him. Suddenly, he let out a shout.

“Cas, no!” Castiel began to shake him, and Dean shot up now wide awake. Cas sat up slower, sore muscles complaining as he did so. 

“Dean?” He asked gently, rubbing the small circles on the man’s back. Dean was breathing heavily trying to calm down. 

“I’m sorry, I kept you here all night. I’m just going to go to my room.” He stood shakily, but Cas pulled him back onto the sofa. 

“No. You’re going to tell me what’s going on. Then, you’re going to let me heal you.” Dean squirmed under Castiel’s intense stare. He knew there was no getting out of this one.

“I’ve just been sick. It makes my nightmares worse.” Dean looked away, clenching his jaw. 

“What are they about?” Cas prodded, voice somehow still full of compassion. Dean sighed, stalling by running a hand through his hair like he vaguely remember Cas doing earlier.

“People I couldn’t save. This time it was you.” Cas stayed quiet. He understood. Instead of going into it and making Dean that painful experience, he moved on to a more important topic. 

“You have to let me help you.” Cas said, eyes pleading Dean immediately refuse, shaking his head slowly, trying to hide a pain related wince.

“No Cas. I’ll be fine.” Dean tried to move again but Cas wouldn’t listen.

“No, Dean. You won’t be. Please, let me heal you.” Cas lifted two fingers and brought them to Dean’s forehead, but the man pushed them away. “Dean, it is stupid to play these games! People count on you! Let me heal you so you can get back to helping those who rely on you!” He whisper shouted. Dean was stunned. He hadn’t expected Cas to react so strongly. 

“I can’t...I can’t let you see into my head man. There’s...there’s too much.” Once again, Cas softened. 

“I know.”

“You told me that when healing things like the head, you make some sort of link with it. No offense, ubt I don’t want you seeing my thoughts. Or my dreams.” Cas sighed, letting go of Dean’s arm, which he hadn’t realized that he had been holding in a death grip. 

“That is true. But I can avoid your current thoughts, if you’d like. When fighting off nightmares, I tend towards a method in which I just cover them with better dreams. That way, I am never in a part of you mind that is actively thinking.” This comforted Dean slightly. “As for healing you of your sickness, it is done so quickly that I rarely make out a complete thought in the jumble of human’s brains. You would still have your privacy in that respect.” Castiel awaited Dean’s answer. The knew information helped Dean, and though he was still a bit cautious about the whole thing, he decide to bite. 

“How d’you do it? The dream thing.” Castiel grinned in relief. He was glad Dean was accepting his help.   
“It’s simple. I write the dream on your skin.” Dean looked at him, waiting for Castiel to continue. He was clearly puzzled. “It’s like writing a novel. I decide what I want you to dream about, and then write it on you in Enochian with my grace.” 

“I still don’t follow.” Dean informed the angel. Castiel took a second to think, trying to come up with a better way to explain it. 

“My grace connects with your soul in a way. It circulates through you whenever I make contact while using my powers. By writing on you, I am instructing my grace what to show your soul, and it covers the nightmare.” Dean nodded, showing he understood. His face changed quickly, into one of realization. 

“Is that what the handprint was? Your grace imprinting on my soul?” Cas was surprised Dean remembered that, let alone that he connected the two. 

“Yes.” He responded. “But this requires far less power. It would leave no lasting mark.” 

“You know, I can still feel it sometimes. I know it isn’t there, but I feel like it is.” Dean looked down, avoiding Castiel's eyes. He didn’t know why this embarrassed him so much. He supposed it was because he felt that this signified how much he actually relied on the angel. It made him feel weak.

“That’s because it’s still there.” Dean’s head shot up, eyes looking to meet Castiel’s, but the Seraph wasn’t looking at him. “When I marked you, I claimed your soul, ripping it from hell. A small bit of my grace was given to you and a small bit of your soul was given to me in the process. We are connected.” Dean stared at him in shock. It made a lot of sense, but he wondered why Cas never told him. He was about to ask when Cas continued. “Sometimes I think my separation from Heaven and human feelings began because of the small part of your soul in me. So thank you.” Dean didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t angry with Cas, he probably had a good reason for not telling Dean. It wasn’t like it mattered anyway. Cas saved him. He was glad to know that he had some part in saving Cas.

“That’s...that’s a big bomb to drop on a guy at three o’clock in the morning buddy,” Dean laughed. 

“I’m sorry. I just thought it might help you understand.” Cas apologized.

“Nah, Cas. It’s okay. It did help.” Dean sighed, looking away once more. He had made his final decision. He looked back at Cas. “I’ll let you do it. What do you need from me?” Cas’s eyes lit up, thrilled. 

“Just lie down and close your eyes. I’ll do the rest. Do you trust me Dean?” Dean turned onto his back and laid his head in the angel’s lap, ignoring how it must look. He had far more to freak out about than a slightly intimate moment between friends. 

“With my life.” He responded. And it was true. 

Dean did as he was told, and soon felt Castiel’s fingertips brush against his forehead. Within moments, he was fast asleep. Castiel then healed Dean of his sickness with a shot burst of grace. He felt the human’s temperature go down underneath his strong hands. After that was done, he entered Dean Winchester’s head. Castiel intended to respect his treasured privacy, avoiding the parts of his mind where current thoughts were stored. Instead he took a trip down what Dean would call, ‘Memory Lane’. He was looking for a happy dream. A time before Dean’s life became so complicated. When he stumbles upon one of a young Dean Winchester on a hunt with John and his brother, he selects it. It seemed like the obvious choice. After watching it through once, he exits the hunter’s mind and brings a fingertip to his creased forehead, relaxing it. Then, he begins to write.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three  
Dean’s Dream

I stay completely silent as we creep through the seemingly abandoned house. All I have to look at for now is my little brother Sammy’s blue flannel covered back and the walls of the unlit hallway we were crouched in. As we waited, I picked at my shoelaces, tightening and loosening them. It had become a bit of a nervous habit, or at least something I would do when I was bored. My dad had started to take notice of it; he was sharp like that, so I stopped, instead running my fingers along the spots where the walls met the floor, collecting all the dust. Though nothing had really happened yet, I could feel my pulse racing and my heart attempting to beat its way out of my chest. All I have to say was that I was pretty damn excited, even though I had done this exact thing many times before. At first glance, this seemed like any other hunt; A small pack of werewolves, small town in Ohio, two dropped bodies. But it wasn’t. No, this hunt was special. Tonight was something of a rite of passage for Sam. It was his first time hunting in the field, instead of being me and dad’s man in the chair. I was beyond thrilled for him. I guess that’s why I couldn’t seem to keep my bubbling nerves or excitement, not really sure which, down. 

After what had seemed like an eternity of pointless waiting, it was time to head in on the sons of bitches. At dad’s signal, we moved, bursting through the old wooden door in front of Sam, guns blazing, silver bullets flying. There were only three of the beast’s, one for each of us. Dad and me dispatched ours quickly, but Sam had no such luck. Your first hunt was usually like that Across the room, he was struggling to nail the wolf in the heart. This was unusual. Typically, Sam was a great shot. I decided to chalk it up to first time jitters, I mean, what else could it be? When it had seemed that Sam had had enough, I began to cross the room to assist him like any good older sibling would. But dad stopped me in my tracks, holding me back in an iron grip.

“He has to do it on his own.” He told me, leaving no room for protest. That’s usually how the old man talked. Very matter of a fact, drill sergeant, intense-like. So I just nodded in understanding, but feared for Sam’s life anyway. Not like he could stop what was going on in my own head. However, I quickly learned that when it comes to Sammy’s hunting abilities, I should never worry. When dad tossed him a particularly large machete, he decapitated the thing in a matter of seconds. I let out a loud cheer, going to my brother and clapping him on the back, real hard. 

“Great job Sammy! I’m damn proud of you.” I told him, grinning ear to ear. Dad said nothing himself, but allowed the younger son a faint smile, showing his approval. This made me even happier. It was rare that the old man showed even an ounce of pride these days, and the fact that he had felt good enough about Sam’s performance to let it shine through his brooding demeanor caused me to feel great joy for my brother. 

“What d’ya say we get some pie?” I suggested, like I usually do after hunts. Sam had said very little, so he figured the boy must be ravenous. I got like that after hunts sometimes too. Both Sam and dad agreed, and with that, we all hopped in Baby. The three of us drove down to the nearest diner, and dad walked in alone, leaving me any Sammy in the car. A few minutes later, he returned with a large cherry pie, handing it back to us, along with two forks. 

As it passed from his hands to ours, we were struck by the delicious scent. Our mouth’s began to water, in need of the perfectly baked sustenance. Both me and Sam dug in, fighting for every last piece. Eventually, a few slices already eaten, Sam began to talk again, joking with me about how we’d both would get fat and be perfect targets for monsters if we ate anymore. I guessed his hunger had finally calmed. Honestly, I was pretty relieved to see him speaking again. Even if it’s over nothing, I worry sometimes. We had planned to stop, to not eat the entire pie, but when we caught another whiff of the thing, neither of us could heed Sam’s advice. Instead, we devoured the whole thing, quite impressively. Pretty soon after getting into the motel room, me and Sam both slipped into a food coma, in absolute bliss. In my final waking seconds, all I could think or feel was my swelling pride for Sammy. He’d taken a big step that day, and honestly, I was just glad to have been there to see him do it. 

8:30 AM, May 15th

The dream slowly faded away, leaving Dean awake with an oddly negative feeling. At first, he was unsure as to why, but as his vision cleared and reality solidified, he understood. While the dream Dean had had provided him with a feeling of comfort and joy before he knew what he did now, after learning what the same moment meant to Sammy, the thought of it made him sick. Dean remembered that moment as one of pride in his younger brother for his first kill, but Sam remembered it as one of great anguish. The feeling of guilt and disappointment had overwhelmed him in the days following the kill and no one had even noticed. To this day, Dean felt quite badly about the incident. He avoided thinking about it, so the fact that he had dreamed it up in such vivid detail confused him. At least until he turned his head up into Castiel’s blue eyes. 

Dean sat up quickly, in complete shock, the events of last night’s conversation flooding back. He realized what Castiel had done, and removed himself from the Seraph’s lap as quickly as humanly possible. He looked at the angel, eyes filled with intense rage. “What the fuck Cas?” He said, clearly pissed. Castiel tilted his head, staring intently at the man beside him. He was clearly confused, unaware he had done anything wrong. Dean was still awaiting a response, eyes blazing in fury.

“What is it Dean?” He asked curiously, a hint of concern now threading through his gravelly voice.

“How the hell...did you know about that? That memory.” Dan asked quietly, venom lacing his tone. He was sure that he had never shared that with anyone. Castiel was about to respond when Dean asked a new, more specific question. “Did you look through my memories?” He accused. This puzzled Castiel even more than the thing Dean had asked before. 

“Yes Dean. That is how I planned to find a dream for you. Searching through your old, more pleasant memories.” This had been Castiel’s idea from the start. It made sense to him; using the ‘good old days’ to bring some joy back into the righteous man’s life. It was a solid plan, a sure fire way to help Dean and learn more about his past, which, even though they’ve been close for years, he still keeps fairly under wraps. 

“Are you kidding me?” Dean asked incredulously. Cas blinked, then tilted his head even further.

“No of course not...” The seraph responded quite honestly. Dean interrupted him quickly, having none of it.

“Cas! You can’t just root through my memories like that. What the hell makes you think you had any right?” Earlier, he was hurt by Castiel’s actions, and pretty damn pissed. But now, he was both those things, plus enraged. And shouting. Cas still was baffled by Dean’s incredible rage.

“Why are you so upset about this?” He asked in a voice as steady as he could make it. While Dean was busy freaking out, Cas was still worried about drawing to much attention or waking up the others. “You don’t need to worry Dean. The only part of your mind I looked through was the section storing deep, past memories. I went nowhere near the cortex’s that would hold anything current.” It was a desperate attempt to keep the man before him calm. Dean responded with a nearly indescribable look. His eyes widened in shock, and his mouth fell open. The rest of his face screwed itself up, a mix of anguish and anger dancing across his features. 

“It doesn’t matter where you did or didn’t go, man! This was a complete violation of my privacy!” Cas was beginning to grow agitated with Dean’s lack of proper explanation, so he raised his own voice, losing any regard for the others sleeping in the bunker.

“I told you I’d be doing this last night! I’ve done nothing that wasn’t agreed upon by the both of us. You have no right to be angry with me!” Cas squinted eyes at Dean, daring the man before him to challenge the accuracy of his pointed statement. And challenge him Dean did.

“You’re joking right?” Dean said, suddenly much quieter. He began again, allowing his voice to crescendo once more. “You said you’d help me sleep, covering my dreams and shit, but you never said anything about reading my mind!” Dean was breathing heavily and blinking rapidly now, and he was losing control of his already extreme emotions. He sighed, defeated. “Get out. I want be to alone.” Cas softened immediately. He hadn’t realized how truly upset Dean was by all this.

“Dean…” He continued gently.

“Leave!” Dean screamed violently, but Cas could hear the hurt he was hiding in his voice. 

“Fine. But know, I was just trying to help you. I assisted you in sleep, healed you of your sickness, and held you through the night. Helping you is all I ever wanted to do.” With that, Cas strode out of the living room, leaving Dean alone.

Now that the angel was gone and Dean had calmed down some, the man began to regret his words. In the heat of the moment, Dean hadn’t even realized Cas had healed him. He wondered if the force behind what he had said was entirely necessary, for Cas hadn’t intended to wrong him. Dean didn’t want to admit it, but he felt bad. It was hard to think this way. All it ever did to Dean was cause him pain.

With that thought, he pushed himself up off the couch aggressively, planning to go to his bedroom and retrieve Baby’s keys. He needed to get out for a while. Before he had completely exited the room however, Dean looked back at the couch where he and Cas had slept the previous night.

In a cresting wave of uncontrollable anger, Dean lashed out, slamming a fist into the nearest wall. He turned, shoving all the books and single lamp off the small end table by the room’s entrance. After that, Dean grabbed the edge of the table, flipping it across the room violently. He shuddered, finally feeling a sense of calm return to him. As soon as these things, these feelings came up, he shoved the behind a heavily reinforced wall in his mind. He always had, and today would be no different. Dean wasn’t going to think about it. He wasn’t going to feel bad. He was the one who had been hurt here, not the angel. He was the one who was so devastated by this. He just couldn’t explain why. Dean heard the footsteps, sensed the eyes peeking around corners, trying to piece together what happened. He didn’t care. All he cared about right now, despite everything, was Cas. 

He looked at that well worn sofa once more, and the sunken cushions upon it. Seeing them, remembering the peace he felt just a few hours before, it caused a hot, dull ache to flood through his chest. Dean looked away, doing his best to ignore it. Whatever it was, all it did was cause him unspeakable pain. 

10:30 AM, May 15th

All that had any chance of calming Dean down was the distinct sounds of his beloved 1967 Chevrolet Impala. He needed an open road and nowhere to go. More than anything, he needed to clear his head. So with a quick word to Sam, telling him he’d be out on a beer run, Dean left. He hopped in Baby and hit the road.

Dean got behind the wheel, popping in one of his old mixtapes and starting the car. He pulled out of the bunker’s garage and turned onto the nearest road. From there he just drove. Drove north along the old back road, through small towns and past no name shops and bars. He just couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop running. From his past, from his present. Dean wasn’t even sure if he wanted to run into his future. What he really wanted sometimes was existing. Not by the way of suicide. No, there was no honor in that. But when things got rough or increasingly overwhelming, he would wonder what it would be like to just cease existing. Dean wouldn’t think that way for long. He’d just laugh and remember that without him, hundreds of people, if not thousands or millions would be dead.

After what felt like at least an hour, Dean saw a small diner with a flickering sign light. He wasn’t really all that hungry, but food always did have a way of dulling his pain. Pulling into the diner parking lot, Dean looked in his rear view mirror. He hated what he saw. The man looking back at him was tired, worn. Dean sighed in disappointment. Recent years had not been kind to him. He attributes most of the wrinkles to his forty years in hell. Thank god for Castiel. Every time he remembered the many years he spent in perdition, he found himself thinking of Cas, and everything he had done for him. Usually, thoughts of his angel...or the angel, as he typically corrected himself, brought an uncontrollable smile to his face. Today, it stained his lips with a grimace. 

Once again, Dean allowed his own anger and self pity to push his feelings of regret from his body. It was always the same process in these kinds of situations; assuring himself that he was wronged and shouldn’t feel bad for retaliating. He didn’t want to acknowledge it now, but it was different with Cas. He couldn’t just sit there and convince himself to stay angry with the angel. But he could try.

Dean pulled the diner’s door open and made his way to an empty seat. It was one of many. In fact, aside from the young couple in the corner, he was the only one there. He was glad. Sometimes, Dean could use a little peace and quiet. It was a nice change of pace from his regular life. So there he sat, reveling in the diner’s nostalgic aura, feeling a foreign sense of calm wash over him. Dean stayed this way for a few minutes, breathing steadily. His complete tranquility was interrupted when a woman approached him.

“Hey darlin’!” She was a shorter, heavier set, older woman with warm, brown eyes. There was a mop of frizzy, dark hair pulled up into a mess of a bun sitting on top of her heavily made up face. She had a kind, genuine, warm smile, and it was on full display for Dean. Typically, waitresses in these diners will give you all the fake bullshit about hoping you’ve had a good day and recommending the most expensive dishes on the menu, claiming it’s their personal favorite. This woman didn’t do that, and Dean appreciated it. He didn’t want to deal with artificial pleasantries right now. “What can I get you?” She asked him, taking a pad and a pencil out of her back pocket. 

“I’ll have a stack of pancakes and a black coffee.” He folded up the menu and handed it to the waitress after she had finished jotting down his order. She stuck the pad and pencil back into her pocket and took the menu from him. 

“That all, sweetheart?” She asked. It seemed like she was waiting for him to say something. It confused Dean, but he chose to ignore it. 

“Yeah, that’s it.” He confirmed, doing his best to make his tight lipped smile look less painful. His brief moment of peace had been disturbed, and he was back to the turbulent waters of his mind. He figured he had done a poor job of hiding his pain, based of the pitying look he received.

“Okay, baby. My name’s Tammy. Just call me over whenever you need. I’ll have your food to you in a few.” Dean nodded in understanding, and then she turned around, walking back into the kitchen. He could he Tammy call out the order, making sure the cooks started it right away. Dean then sat back in his chair. He hadn’t realized how hunched over he had gotten. 

The second the restaurant got quiet again, his mind made a beeline for his thoughts about Cas. He couldn’t deny it any longer. He felt terrible for the way he treated Cas, but that didn’t mean that the angel was just forgiven. Dean could admit, at least to himself, that he shouldn’t have lashed out at Cas when it was just a simple miscommunication that caused the problem. But if he was honest, knowing that Castiel had poked around in his mind left him feeling vulnerable and exposed. 

It was Dean’s job to stay strong and steady, to be the rock for his friends and family. It wasn’t an easy task, but it was one of the most important things that Dean does an a day to day basis. In the kind of life he and his loved ones live, breaking down, getting overly emotional and dwelling on past experiences and failures can get you killed. So Dean just pushed all these traumatic childhood events to the back of his head, ignoring the inner turmoil they caused. Now, Cas destroying that wall in his mind brought on all the negative memories he had of his childhood.

It was hard to think about, so he usually didn't. But now, Dean couldn’t help it. Everything came flooding back. His mother’s death, his father’s abuse, his own incredible loneliness and lost sense of place came crashing down on him, dragging him into the abyss of his mind. Dean was surrounded by these memories, and he felt like he was suffocating. He needed a lifeline, and he needed it fast. Luckily, one came in the form of Tammy the waitress.

“Here it is!” She shouted enthusiastically, voice filling the entire diner. It was loud and soothing, pulling Dean out of his own head. She set down a plate of pancakes and a bottle of warm maple syrup. “You want any whip cream?” She asked, taking a can off her tray. Dean nodded, and she piled some on top of the pancakes. Then, she sat down his black coffee and a plate of bacon.

“Wait, I didn’t order this.” Dean said disappointedly. The bacon did look good though, he might have to order some for himself later. Tammy laughed in response. 

“I know, but it looked like you needed it!” That got Dean to crack a real smile. When he dug into his food and Tammy was still standing there, looking at him like she wanted to say something but didn’t feel that she should, he invited her to speak.

“You okay Ms. Tammy?” He asked curiously. With that she sat down in booth across from him. This surprised Dean, ubt he decided to play it cool, waiting for her to say whatever was on her mind. 

“Yes darlin’, I’m fine.” Dean liked when she called him that. It made him feel safe and at home. Language like that usual had a similar effect on him. In fact, all of Ms. Tammy made him feel that way. It was nice. “I was going to ask you the same thing. You cam in looking like someone hit your dog with a car!” Dean did his best not to laugh at the comment, remembering when Sammy had spent several months with some Amelia chick after doing just that. Once he was sure he could keep in the chuckle that had threatened to escape his lips, he answered.

“Just some troubles with a good friend.” Ms. Tammy immediately took his hand. It was his left one; he continued eating with his right. It felt strange to have a random woman care about him so much, but he didn’t mind. He figured it didn’t matter much that she knew his personal drama, seeing as they would likely never see each other again.

“Let Ms. Tammy help. What happened sugar?” She asked him, waiting for his answer patiently. Dean wanted to tell her, to at least tell someone, because it was becoming so much. He just wasn’t sure how. He couldn’t tell her the whole truth; that his angel had looked through his childhood memories and left him feeling violated. She’d think he was batshit crazy. No, he’d have to come up with a partial truth. He began cautiously, unsure of how exactly he’d go about explaining what had happened between him and Cas the night before and earlier that morning. 

“Well…” He started, thinking about what to say next. “I have this best friend. His name’s Cas. He’s about my height, with dark, ruffled, sex hair and crazy blue eyes. I suppose his hair isn’t ask dark as when we first met, and it’s better kept now. He also wears basically the same thing everyday, and has and odd sense of humor. We shouldn’t get along as well as we do, but here we are.” Dean knows that he is stalling, and Cas is the easiest thing to go off on an unnecessary tangent about. He still needed time to think about what to say. After a second, he continued. “We both had pretty rough childhoods, so we’ve kind of stuck together since we met. We take care of each other as best we can, no matter what. And recently I’ve been having really bad dreams. Stuff, people, things from my past coming back to haunt me I guess.” Ms. Tammy’s look of pity intensifies, and Dean looks away, breaking eye contact. He can’t stand it when people look at him like that. “Anyways, no one else I live with knows about it, or they just don’t acknowledge it. It’s kind of expected. I’ve been this way for a while, so all the people that live with us and my brother and mom know about it. It doesn’t bother anyone, they all just kind of sleep through it. But Cas doesn’t sleep much, so he hears it every night.” As he told the story, Dean began to understand where Cas was coming from in wanting to help him so desperately. “So he came to me recently, trying to find out what he could do to help me. I told him there wasn’t anything, and that I’d deal with it on my own like I always do, but he was having none of it. So he decided to go through my journals. As a kid, I moved around alot, and the only thing I had routing me to all these places was my journals. And he read them.” Dean figured the metaphor of sorts worked well enough. “When he approached me again, promising he could help calm me down if I had another, I agreed. I mean, the nightmares sucked. I would’ve done almost anything to help myself. You can imagine my surprise when I had another and woke up to him telling me a story about my childhood.” Dean realized the analogy wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do. “So I blew up at him. I was pissed, and I made him go away. Then I came out here to get away from it all.” Dean finally finished his story, releasing a deep breath.

“Feel better to get it all out in the open?” Ms. Tammy said with a small smile. Dean nodded quietly.

“I just don’t know what to do. I mean, it’s embarrassing to admit, but I know I overreacted. It just left me feeling-”

“Exposed?” Ms. Tammy finished. Dean sighed, looking back at her.

“Exactly.” Ms. Tammy opened her mouth, but closed it again. She wasn’t sure what Dean wanted from her, and she didn’t want to intrude on his personal business. 

“Uh uh. Nope. I told you everything that was going on with me, and I don’t usually do that. Tell me what you were going to say.” Dean insisted. Ms. Tammy gave in.

“Son, I understand where you are coming from. I understand you feel violated. You were! And what I’m gathering is that you want me to tell you if you should forgive this Cas or not. I can’t make that decision for you. What I can tell you though, is that you obviously love him.” Dean found the way she said that last thing funny, but he let it slide. She seemed to be wise and he wanted her advice. “And he obviously loves you. Why else would he be so upset that you have these nightmares?” She laughed, then continued. “I can tell you want to forgive him, but feel like you shouldn’t.” Dean opened his mouth in protest, bust she stopped him. “You don’t have to admit it, but I know. And honey, that is not how forgiveness works. That is not how loves works. Forgiveness and love? Baby, they come from the heart, not the head! Your heart has already forgiven him. Let your head do the same.” Dean dropped his head, overcome by emotion. He figured Ms. Tammy noticed it, but he wanted to pretend she didn’t. “And I’m not saying you have to go right back to that same level of trust right away. You gotta ease back into it. But darlin’, you already forgave him. You just needed to cool down.” Dean knew she was right. 

“Thank you. Really. This meant a lot. You’re a great woman Ms.Tammy.” He began to pull his wallet out of his jeans. This woman was about to get the tip of her life. But before he could hand the cash over she laughed, pushing it back towards him. 

“Oh no, baby. This is on the house.” Dean let out an exasperated sigh. 

“At least let me tip you then!” Ms. Tammy shook her head.

“I don’t want your money. It means nothing to me. If you want to repay me, you’ll head home right now and fix things with your angel.” Dean’s eyes opened wide, and he stuttered over his words, trying to figure out a way to cover up Castiel’s secret. How could she have known Cas was an angel? He was just about to ask when Ms. Tammy spoke again.

“Relax, boy. I know you aren’t ready to admit to how you feel about this Cas guy. I’m not pressuring you.” Dean released a breath of relief. So she hadn’t figured it out. Thank god. “Now get out of here!” He did just that. Dean slid out of the small booth and headed for the door. Just as he was about to exit, he turned around to look at Ms. Tammy, who was now cleaning up his table. 

“You know, you remind me of an old friend Ms. Tammy.” He said. Ms. Tammy looked at him and laughed.

“Must’ve be a hell of a good friend!” She grinned cheekily.

“She was.” Dean confirmed. “Thank you, again.” He said with a wave.

“No problem sugar. Now go get your boy!” 

Dean walked back out to his car with a purpose. He through the car door open and hopped into the driver's seat. It wasn’t until he had started the car and the music that he realized what Ms. Tammy had said. “I know you’re not ready to admit to how you feel about this Cas guy,” and “Go get you boy!” She had thought that he was in love with Cas! That he was gay for him! For a second, he considered going back in to correct her. Yes, he did love Cas, but he wasn’t in love with him. There was a big difference. But he decided against it. It didn’t really matter what she thought. They’d likely never speak again, though Dean wished they would. She was a nice woman. She reminded him of Missouri Moseley. So Dean let her think that about him and Cas. He didn’t have time to go in there and change her mind. Besides, he had an angel to work things out with. He left the diner parking lot with a smile on his face, knowing that no matter what, things would always turn out okay with him and Cas. They always do.

11:00 AM, May 15th

While Dean was out on what seemed to be a particularly long beer run, Jack and Mary trained, Cas read, and Sam researched. Most of the Apocalypse World hunters had already head out on their different assignments. That’s how life in the bunker had been ever since Dean returned. Organized. Before they brought Bobby and the crew to their world, they’d have to cover all these hunts on their own. Now, they all had time to take breaks. Most of the time, the Apocalypse World hunters refused the breaks that the Winchesters offered them. They were all still unable to sit still for long, not enough time had passed since they were at war. They needed to be able to occupy themselves. Sam, Dean and Cas couldn’t give them everything the lost to Michael and his goons back, but they could at least give them that. 

Often times, there would only be a few people in the bunker at a time during the day, so this left everyone with plenty of space to so their own thing. Jack was glad for that. He didn’t want a bunch of people looking in on him when he trained. It was embarrassing. The recent weeks hadn’t been easy on Jack. Dying and coming back via magic that feeds on your soul isn’t easy for anyone. At least that’s what Jack thought. It could easily be true that he is the only person to have ever experienced it before. And while he was disappointed, and his lack of powers left him feeling useless and lost, he was grateful to be back. He owed that to the Winchesters and Castiel. Especially Castiel. The angelic father of his gave up any chance of happiness he ever had to save Jack in a binding deal with the Empty. The deal’s terms were that the second Castiel became truly happy, the Empty would drag him away to a fate worse than death. Castiel didn’t even hesitate to say yes. He would do anything to save his surrogate son. It greatly upset Jack, but Castiel promised him that happiness was nowhere in his near future. Jack wasn’t sure. After Dean’s return, things had really started to look up.

Dean was always the type to push negative thoughts out of his head and save them for later, Cas liked to believe that there was no way his negative thoughts could come to be true, and Sam liked to come up with logical solutions to the ones that plagued him. Jack was different. He tended to dwell on them, unsure of what to do. So as he trained, he thought about these things every time his fists made contact with the punching bag. He still wasn’t much of a fighter, but he was improving. Slowly. He was just about to take a break - he hated his newfound human endurance - when Mary walked into the gym.

“Not bad Jack!” She said, voice full of encouragement. Jack turned to her.

“I still suck.” He walked over to the bench that was pushed up against the left wall and took a seat. Mary crossed the room and placed herself next to him. 

“Jack, a lot has happened to you in the past few weeks. You can’t expect yourself to suddenly be good at this. It’s new to you!” Jack sighed in response.

“But I’m useless. What can I do if I don’t have my powers and can’t do this?” Mary put her arm around Jack and pulled him into a half hug. He sunk into it gratefully.

“Jack, you’re family. And you could never be useless.” Jack looked up at her, eyes full of sorrow.

“But what am I doing that’s any help to anyone?” Mary smiled at him, doing her best to comfort the young boy.

“Being you. You saved the lives of all these people in Apocalypse World countless times. You are kind and help everyone here. You’re easy to talk to. And Jack, you’re trying your best! If you’re out of commision for a while when that comes to fighting, that’s fine. You’ll get there eventually. And who knows, maybe your grace will recharge quicker than we all think. We don’t know, Jack! All we can do is wait and see, and try our best in the process.” Jack smiled and hugged Mary tightly. 

“Thank you.” Mary gave him another smile.

“No problem, Jack. You’re family. This is what family does.” Jack felt at home when one of the Winchesters, Apocalypse World hunters, or Castiel called him family. It made him feel appreciated. That’s all he ever really wanted. To feel like he belongs. “Now get off me. You’re a sweaty mess.” The pair laughed in unison. Jack removed himself from the bench and walked back over to the punching bag. Mary left the room, allowing him to continue training undisturbed. Once Mary was gone and Jack had readied himself, he continued to land punches on the bag with a new kind of motivation and energy.

12:15 PM, May 15th

Dean walked back into the bunker, beerless. This disappointed many of the hunters who were currently holed up at the place. Little did Dean know, they actually were low on beer. No one asked him about it though, for they could see that he was a man on a mission. No one ever got in Dean’s way when he got like this; they all knew there was no stopping him from doing whatever he has set his mind to.

“Where’s Cas?” He asked the few hunters who had been sitting in the War Room. 

“If he’s back, he’ll be in the library.” Maggie responded for the group. Dean looked at her in confusion.

“Back from what?” He asked. Dean hadn’t been aware that the angel had any plans for the day.

“Spur of the moment hunt. Seemed kind of upset this morning.” He frowned. Dean wasn’t sure if they were some of the hunters that knew about what had happened between him and Cas the morning before. He decided to just ignore it, giving way to his worry instead. 

“Was he alone?” Dean asked, concern now clear in his voice and on his face. 

“I’m not sure.” With that, Dean left the room. He tried not to rush, to not show his fear. He made his way to the library quickly, in search of his angel. Dean knew how this kind of thing could go, even for someone as powerful as Cas. You go in expecting one thing, but sometimes, you get another. If this happens when you’re alone, you’re fucked. So when Dean saw Cas sitting alone, clad in trench coat and suit, all he could do was breathe a loud, heavy sigh of relief. 

“Cas.” The angel turned turned to the righteous man, who was now smiling. Cas was glad. It gave him hope that Dean would move past what he had done. He stood up, preparing to walk over to the man standing in front of him. Castiel figured it was time that they talked about what had happened.

“Dean.” He said simply. Suddenly, Dean crossed the room rapidly, wrapping Cas in a tight hug, burying his head in the seraph’s strong shoulders. Castiel breathed softly, surprised by Dean’s action. He slowly wrapped his arms around Dean’s midsection, pulling him closely. Then he leaned his head on Dean’s. They stayed like that for a second, eyes closed, embracing each other. It was nice, but Cas was worried about Dean. A hug like this was very uncharacteristic of him.

“Dean...are you okay?” Cas asked tentatively. Dean pulled away, realizing how long they had stood there. 

“Yeah. I was worried about you. Cas, it doesn’t matter that you are an angel. You can’t hunt alone. Everybody and their mother has an angel blade now, and that means you can be killed just as easily as anyone else.” Cas nodded.

“Okay.” He agreed easily due to shock. Dean didn’t usually act like this. 

“So, how was the hunt?” Dean asked him. Castiel smiled.

“It was a fluke. Regular human homicide.” 

“Makes me feel a bit better.” Dean said with a light laugh. It had a fresh, earthy quality. The sound always made Castiel feel fresh and clean and real. It made him feel closer to humanity. But still Dean’s statement confused him. Cas tilted his head and squinted his blue eyes at Dean.

“Why?” Castiel asked him. Dean laughed again, this time at his question.

“Because you didn’t hunt alone.” It made sense to Dean. Yeah, murder isn’t a good thing...ever. But it’s better when they don’t have to get involved and put themselves in necessary danger. His response brought a smile to Castiel’s face.

“Dean...though I appreciate your concern, I can take care of myself.” Usually, that kind of statement annoys Dean. He thinks it unwise for anyone to believe that they will always, in any situation, be able to protect themselves. But for some reason, it didn’t bother him with Cas. He could hear the teasing tone of his voice. This was a newer thing with Cas - the teasing. After years with the Winchester brothers, he finally picked up the skill. It made Dean happy to hear Cas like this. To hear Cas enjoying himself.

“Yeah, I’m sure Cas. I know you’re a badass. Sometimes, your power even scares me. But man, that doesn’t mean you don’t need to be careful. To take care of yourself. We need you Cas. And...I don’t know what I would do if you got hurt. Or if you died. So please. Don’t make me find out.” Cas didn’t know what to say. Part of him was wondering if this was the real Dean. But he knew it was. It was just a vulnerable, scared version of the man he knew and loved. He was afraid that he had broken him. Though he quite liked knowing what was going on in Dean’s head. And what was coming out of Dean’s mouth. A blush rose up his neck and across his cheeks. It used to never happen, but the longer he spent with the humans, the more his vessel began to exhibit human things; like goosebumps or blushing. He knew the redness didn’t go unnoticed by Dean. Cas was still trying to calm the blush down and come up with a response when Dean spoke again. “Anyways, um...that’s not what I’m here to talk to you about.” Cas looked at him.

“Then what is it Dean?” Cas knew exactly what it was, but he wanted to be sure. 

“This morning. Or I guess you could call it last night. Whatever. I...I feel like I need to apologize. I overreacted.” Cas was once again stunned by Dean’s words. “But, we can’t do that again. At least not soon.” Cas understood. It was expected. Dean had every right to keep his privacy. Cas just wished he could’ve done more to help.

“I understand.” He responded simply. Cas turned, starting to make his way back to the table, where his book was waiting, but Dean stopped him. 

“I’m not done. I still need to explain myself.” Cas shook his head.

“No, Dean you don’t. You feel violated. I understand. I won’t make you go into that.” Dean looked away for a second, but then resumed his eye contact with Cas.

“You’re not making me do anything. I want to tell you.” With that, Dean walked to the table where Cas’s book was sitting and pulled out a chair. He sat down, and Cas did the same. 

“I wasn't mad at you. I know I made it seem that way, but that wasn’t what it was. I think I was just upset by the memory. But that isn’t your fault. You had nothing to do with that event. And I’m sorry I blamed you-” 

“Dean it’s okay-” 

“No it’s not!” They interrupted each other. “I just feel like I have to be strong. You know, solid. So that no one else has to be.” Dean looked away.

“Dean, you don’t have to do that. You have the right to feel things too!” Cas pushed.

“Me ignoring my feelings is better than any of you having to!” Dean argued back.

“That’s not true! We all have to share the burden. Dean, it’s not just you.” Cas promised. I know how hard it is for you. But you have to let someone help! And I’m not saying you have to let me back into your head, but you need to talk to someone. Share the weight on your shoulders.” Cas was breathing heavily now. With Dean, there was no feeling neutral. He was either passionately angry or passionately happy with the man. That’s how their friendship had always been. “Dean, I love you. You are my closest friend and I just want you to stop beating yourself up. You deserve better for all that you’ve done for the world.” Cas was ready to fight some more, to force his opinion down Dean’s throat. But he didn’t have to. 

“Okay.” Dean said plainly.

“Okay?” Cas questioned. He couldn’t believe what he had just heard slip from Dean’s lips.

“I’ll talk to someone.” Cas smiled.

“Thank you Dean.” He then got up, preparing to leave Dean alone. He usual wanted to be able to ‘recharge’ after these kinds of talks. But before he could get anywhere, Dean reached out for him, making him stay.

“Hey, I thought you said you wanted me to talk to someone.” Dean saw the look in Cas’s eyes change. Now they were practically twinkling. And he could see that blush climbing up the angels neck again. It excited him. He wasn’t sure why but seeing what just a few of his words could do to Cas, it made him want to do more. Dean realized how weird it sounded, even though the words were only ringing around in his head. But that wasn’t important. What was important though, was talking to Cas. He may not be able to sort out even half thing things in his brain, but he was pretty damn sure Cas could help. Dean felt like Cas could help anything. The angel was his cure-all and Dean loved it. One day, he hoped he could do something similar for Cas.

Dean tried, he really did. He just didn’t know where to start. So that’s what he told Castiel. 

“Cas, I don’t even know what to say. I’m...I’m not good at this kind of thing.” Cas nodded, his face pensive.

“I’ll ask you questions. That way you only have to give answers, instead of coming up with things to say.” Dean nodded in agreement, but Castiel could see the tension all throughout his body. He brought up his and covered Dean’s with it gently in a supportive gesture. “Dean, do you trust me?” Castiel asked, staring at Dean. The man cracked a small smile. 

“With my life.” He answered honestly. With Dean’s permission, Castiel began.

5:15 PM, May 15th  
They spent the next few hours like this; Castiel asking Dean questions and Dean giving answers. They varied in length and depth, and Dean even passed on a few that he either didn’t know how to respond to or just wasn’t ready to talk about. And though it wasn’t the easiest thing Dean had ever done, and some of the time he felt like fleeing that small wooden table and the angel’s probing inquiries, Dean provided an honest answer to everything he could. Not one lie poured from the lips of the older Winchester. In a way, he felt it was quite liberating. 

It was quite beneficial to Castiel too. Though he’d known Dean personally for nearly ten years, they had not yet broken into this level of personal connection. He learned about the time Dean left Sam in a motel room so he could play arcade games and Sam was nearly hurt, and the time that a drunken John beat him after a hunt gone wrong. He’d even seen the hunter tear up at the mention of his motherless childhood, and what that did to him and Sammy. Of course, Castiel walked around the table in and wrapped the man in a hug. He was nearly certain that the pair of them were touched starved. It was a solid explanation for the fact that they couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other recently. Dean also told him about his earliest memories of childhood and his first impression of the angel himself. According to Dean, the seraph seemed like a cold, self righteous, entitled asshole. Oh, how Dean had changed him. By the end of their discussion, Cas felt that he had come to better understand the traumas and successes of the man sitting before him. 

“Thank you, Dean.” Cas said once the conversation had died down and they were about ready to leave the library. Dean and Cas were now seated on the same side of the table, chairs turned in some so that they could face each other. 

“For what?” The hunter asked, clearly puzzled. 

“For trusting me. Helping you, it’s something I want to do. I’m just glad you’re starting to let me.” It was now Dean’s turn to be speechless. He’d never get used to knowing how much Cas cared for him. He didn’t understand it. He felt that he was a horrible friend, and not deserving of Cas. In fact, he told the angel that earlier, but it was shot down immediately. 

“Yeah, s’all good so long as you don’t go poking through my mind without my direct, clear, permission first.” Dean laughed at the joke and Cas joined him. It was nice to be able to be friends this way. To have something normal. It was a shame when Sam interrupted it.

“Dinner’s up guys. Figured I’d tell you because you missed lunch.” Sam gave Dean a look. Dean never missed a meal. In fact, he added them. Dean brushed it off, rolling his eyes. He wasn’t going to deal with whatever bullshit Sammy would spout this time. He didn’t even want to hear what he had to say. The pair got up and walked in front of Sam to the kitchen. When the three entered, Sam and Dean headed off to the table, practically attached at the hip. Sam and Mary shared a knowing look. Turns out, they didn’t even need a real plan. All they had to do was show the boys the spark that was already between them. It seemed they’d light the match themselves.

12:30 AM, May 16th

Dean woke with a start, cold sweat dripping down his face. His breathing was erratic and lacked control. It was another nightmare, but a different one than the usual. Typically the demons that plague Dean’s sleep are replays of horrific experiences in his waking life. It had been years before his brain wove together a fictitious nightmare, seeing as it didn’t need to. Dean’s life was already filled with the stuff of bad dreams. But tonight was different. Tonight he dreamed of all his secrets, his darkness pouring out of him and into Castiel. All the shit Dean had held in perverted his angel, and that destroyed Dean. Suddenly, the door to Dean’s bedroom swung open, revealing Castiel, who, much to Dean’s surprise was wearing his pajamas. The same ones he wore the night before. 

Trying to play it cool, Dean said, “You know Cas, if you like sleeping in my clothes so much, you could ask for another pair.” Flirting was his only good distraction, so he just went for it. This time however, Castiel didn’t blush. Instead he stood there, just looking at Dean, seeing right through his facade. He walked over to Dean and sat next to him on the bed. 

“I do enjoy wearing regular clothes, and I wouldn’t mind borrowing some more; but obviously, that isn’t what I’ve come to talk to you about at three o'clock in the morning.” Dean sighed. He wished Cas didn’t know him so damn well sometimes. It’d be easier to avoid conversation like these. “I’ll stay with you, if you like. Watch you. For old times sake.” They laughed quietly, remembering the arguments that that brought on. Dean wouldn’t have minded, if he thought it would help. 

“Cas, I can’t sleep through the nightmares, you watching me or not.” Not even Dean himself could have predicted what he said next. “I want to try again. But we need some ground rules.” Cas’s head jerked up, meeting Dean’s green eyes. A small smile tugged at his lips. Cas did his best to hide it. “First, I want you to explain to me how you’re not going to invade my privacy.” Cas nodded in agreement, but Dean could see a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes.

“It’d be easier if I showed you.” Cas quickly reached to fingers up to Dean’s forehead, leaving him no time or room to dodge. In less than a second, they were in a new location. 

“Dammit Cas! You know I hate that.” He complained. After he felt he had done a sufficient amount of grumbling, Dean allowed himself to look around. “Where the hell are we?” He asked, overwhelmed by his new surroundings. 

It was dark. Pitch black background in fact. But in the midst of all the darkness, there was a shimmering, fog-like mist. In it, dean could see his memories. Not clearly, but some he could recognize. His first hunt, Sam’s first death, his first meeting with Castiel all floated by him. It was loud too, like everything he’d ever heard and thought was playing over each other. 

“How are we supposed to navigate this?” Dean asked, eyes still filled with wonder directed at his own mind. Castiel answered with a simple action instead of words. He twirled is finger around in a circular motion, and all the smoke suddenly began to dart every which way, solidifying int walls and books. In no time at all, his mind took on the look of a library. He followed the angel, walking through the shelves. Some books would fly out at Castiel, opening an displaying their images and words to him. Dean hadn’t seen anything embarrassing so far, but there was a lot of ground to cover. It seemed like an almost endless expanse of Dean’s knowledge and experience laid out before them. It was hard not to be amazed by it. 

“It’s a simple process. Much like in a library, you go to the section filled with the kind of books you want to read, or in this case, memories you want to find, and then narrow it down when you get there. Each section is put out in chronological order, and the same memory can appear in multiple sections. For example, if we enter the ‘Cas’ section of your mind,” Dean tensed up when he heard this. It was dangerous, letting Castiel stand so close to all his thoughts about him. Who knows what he’d find? Cas noticed is apprehension. “You can trust me Dean, the only thing I’m searching for is one that I experienced firsthand.” They came to a stop, and Castiel tugged an ornate, navy blue book with gold designs off the shelf. In the center, an angel stood, wings stretched out, It became apparent to Dean that it was Cas. When Castiel opened the book, it turned to the fine mist once more, and played in front of them. It was their first meeting. Dean couldn’t help but smile when he heard, “I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.” When it was done playing, it returned to book form and Castiel placed it back on the shelf. 

“It also shows up here, in the section filled with your firsts. In the blink of an eye, they were standing in a different part of Dean’s mental library, but looking at the same book. “Do you understand?” Dean nodded. “So you see how easy it would be for me to avoid anything you’d like?” Dean nodded once more, but he could also see how easy it would be for Castiel to look somewhere he shouldn't. Dean pushed the thought out of his head. He trusted Cas.

“Alright, let’s do this then.” Dean said more confidently than he felt.

“Are you sure?” Cas asked. He didn’t want to make Dean uncomfortable.

“Yes.” The righteous man breathed.

“Then let’s pick a memory.” Castiel reached for Dean’s forehead again, but the hunter dodged his fingers. Instead, Dean pulled the book of their first interaction off the shelf, and handed it to Cas.

“This one.” He insisted. Castiel was surprised.

“You’re sure-” 

“Of course I am, Cas. Wouldn’t have picked it if I wasn’t!” Dean interrupted. 

“Alright then.” Cas turned and placed the book back on the shelf.

“Don’t you need that?” Dean asked, eyebrow raised.

“No. I know this story by heart.” Now Dean was the one blushing. Before he could protest, Cas transported them back into their bodies in the real world. 

“That was weird, man. Who knew my mind would look like the one place I hated most in grade school.” Cas let out a little chuckle, and began to slide closer to Dean.

“Nope. Those pajamas are dirty. Change first.” Cas tilted his head in confusion.

“Into what?” He inquired. Dean rolled out of bed and began to dig through his dresser. He pulled out a blue t-shirt, one that matched Castiel eyes, and handed it to him. Castiel immediately removed his shirt, revealing a chest that was far more toned than Dean remembered. He couldn’t help but stare. Then he tossed the angel a pair of light grey sweatpants. He watched discreetly as Castiel changed. It was an odd thing to see him do. Dean liked that it was so human. It made Cas seem closer to what Dean was. Cas then crawled back into Dean’s head and instructed him to lie on his back. Dean watched ads the seraph’s fingers lit up blue, practically dripping grace. “Do you trust me?” Cas asked again. Dean snorted. It was becoming some sort of catchphrase for them. But he didn’t mind.

“With my life.” He responded with complete sincerity. The second Castiel’s cool fingers made contact with his forehead, he drifted into a deep sleep.


End file.
